Crimson
by caffeineaddict13
Summary: How can you miss someone who was never yours to have? J/B/E...sort of. Angst. Character death.


**A/N:** Posted on SoB awhile ago but never got around to putting it up here. Inspired by the prompt _crimson_.

--

Blood, Jacob comes to accept, is really kind of beautiful.

Not in the way Bella is, of course. Bella Swan is all accidental smiles and cheekbones, soft skin and gentle curves. Blood is vampire-beautiful, the way that Jacob has seen it. Harsh, fluid beauty, unending and too-perfect.

It's _her_ blood that he sees, at first. It's all he can see. She is always on his mind (Quil and Paul groan underneath their breath; _Jesus, Jake, can't you think about anything else?_), and her pain is no different.

A paisley-pattern of scratches on her arm, drops sliding down her cheek like tears. The cuts shine crimson in the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, and all he can think is how she is _so _pale.

--

"Bella," he murmurs, breath against her ear. The beeping of the monitors is constant and even, and he tries to hear her heartbeat beneath it. "Honey, you have to wake up."

She doesn't move, and by now the blood has been wiped clean. He still sees it, will always see it, like how the Cullens' eyes will always glint red, even when Bella waxes poetic about amber and gold.

"You_ have_ to," he whispers. "You don't understand. I wish..." But the stars are gone now, and Jacob's still here. He can taste salt on his lips, and he traces a blue vein in Bella's neck. "If you don't wake up, Bells, how can – how can the _world_ live without you?"

What he really wants to say is _I can't_.

--

Edward sits in the corner chair, inhuman and unmoving and dead. Jacob can't help but think that a corpse in the room probably isn't so good for Bella's health.

The doctor comes in and out, doors letting out quiet winds with each entering. Jacob shivers in his heat, and the coats are so goddamn _white_.

"How is she?" Edward asks.

There's a sympathetic face and a frown. Jacob remembers the Cullens' insistence of having _Carlisle_ treat her, and Charlie's adamant claims of moving her to Seattle. _You're the best in Forks, Dr. Cullen, and thank you for the offer. I'm just…more comfortable this way_.

"Are you family?"

"I'm the fiancé," he answers, and Jacob wants to puke.

The doctor nods tightly, her laminated badge glittering under all the white light. "To be honest, we can't tell at this point." Jacob feels his own pulse slow, mimicking the sleeping girl behind him. "Patients who've been in comas for so long …" she sighs, and Jacob's own gaze meets Edward's. He still imagines crimson, but the mirror he finds is so exact he wants to scream.

"Thank you," he hears, soft and insistent, as he walks out the door for air.

--

Days and nights do not separate themselves much. Jacob measures time by nurses' visits; morning meds and evening IV checks – when the clouds part he notices an absence of Edward, but that is all.

Jacob doesn't _feel_. He _is_.

Only when he's talking to Bella does he remember what it's like to smile.

"Embry says hi," he tells her, a hand holding her cheek. "Well, his actual words were _tell your girlfriend she's making us all crazy_, but I figured you'd appreciate the paraphrase."

He brings in his schoolwork, leftover from playing sick. "You'd know this, Bells," he chuckles. "Geometry? Bet you'd be a pro."

And when the horizon turns crimson again, the sun reflecting leftover warmth onto Bella's motionless face, he cries. And there's nothing left to say.

_I miss you_ isn't right. How can you miss someone who was never yours to have?

--

"I'm sorry," Leah says. "About, well – you know…"

"No, you're not." His voice is quiet and hoarse, not angry.

"I _am_." She pauses; scowls. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

He shrugs. "Bella." The name is a breath, two full syllables heavy on his weighted tongue.

"Bella," she repeats. "It's always Bella."

"I wish…" he starts, but there is nothing, not _really_. Or there's too much. Leah's face is almost _sad_, and she places her hand on his, awkward and warm – it's enough, this once. He can close his eyes; almost imagine it's someone else's.

But, then…maybe he doesn't need to.

This once. Just this once.

--

Edward comes to him, one night in the silent waiting room.

"Jacob," he nods, and though his expression is controlled, Jake can't help the little resentment that seeps through. He nods back evenly.

"The doctor said…" the vampire breathes, though they both know he doesn't have to. "She may not make it. I just thought you should know. I –"

"Why are you telling me this?" Jacob asks, interrupting.

Edward looks taken aback. "Because…you're her friend. Why else?"

"You're her _fiancé_. What do _I _matter, in the scheme of things?"

"You love her," he answers quietly. Jacob doesn't respond. "We both know you do. You would say so yourself – do, in fact, when you speak to her. I hear you sometimes. But you would say it to _me_, if the…_situation_ were any different."

"Maybe," he says. "But she doesn't belong to _me_."

"She could have, though." Edward turns, his eyes serious and black. "She could have just as easily and now she can't. She doesn't belong to _anyone_, Jacob Black. Not anymore."

Jacob grimaces. "I wish…" But he doesn't know what to wish. There are too many turns in the road, and Jacob has missed them all. He never had a chance, and apparently – in the end – it didn't even matter.

He tries to smile, finally looks at the _boy_ across from him. "Thanks," he says. And, as the lights turn off far down the hallway, his eyes don't seem so red anymore.

--

Isabella Marie Swan dies at 4:37 AM on a Wednesday. Survived by parents Renee and Charlie, the funeral is held two days later, followed by a gathering at the Swan house. People bring casseroles and soups, and Mrs. Newton closes the store in remembrance.

The population of Forks High School has never had a student death before. The air is tight with anxiousness, real and fake tears from people Bella barely knew. Angela Webber brings orchids and wears dark blue. Lauren Mallory's black dress is too short, and Jessica Stanley cries loudly on her shoulder when they enter the church.

Jacob Black doesn't go to the funeral. He turns, and he runs, and the ground is hard beneath his feet. The Cullens are gone by daybreak, and he can't even find it in himself to be glad.

His heart beats crimson to the tune of _Bella Swan_. And Jacob mourns the girl who never got a chance to love him back.

--

**END**


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